Helping Hand
by KamikazeBabe12
Summary: After Hiruma breaks his arm during the Christmas Bowl, Mamori assists him in a task that has become difficult for him. Undressing.


"FUCKING MANGAGER! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE NOW!!!

Anezaki Mamori rolled her eyes as more expletives flowed steadily from the inside of the clubhouse. Honestly, that man didn't know the meaning of the word "civility". The team's hellish practice had just ended and the demon boy still managed to have the energy to spit curses and gunfire.

She stomped irritably into the clubhouse. "Hiruma, stop addressing me by that horrible name! And enough swearing! You're being a bad influence on-"

"Shut up, fucking manager, and make yourself useful." Hiruma gowled as he struggled to remove his sweaty jersey with his good arm, pulling it up his stomach but finding it impossible to yank over his head.

"E-Excuse me?" Mamori found that her thought processes slowed significantly when confronted with the sight of the quarterback's well-defined abs.

"Isn't it obvious, fucking manager?" Hiruma glared down at her, his sharp mouth curled in annoyance. "I can't undress with this fucking broken arm."

Mamori blushed in comprehension as Hiruma's continued to wrestle his uniform with one arm, muttering obscenities. "Y-you're asking me to…help you? The thought made her feel faint. She knew it was probably necessary, but Hiruma was still a man…and she was still a woman who was not oblivious to his attractiveness.

"No, fucking manager. I'm telling you."

Mamori swallowed, and stepped up to Hiruma. Her blush was growing hotter by the second and she wished he would stop _looking _at her, those cunning eyes raking over her. With trembling hands she continued to pull up his jersey, feeling each defined muscle on his stomach and chest twitch reflexively as her fingers brushed over them.

He leaned down so she could pull the red and black material over his head. Mamori did so carefully, being gentle to his injured arm. Next, she loosened the straps of his pads and slipped them off his shoulders as well.

As Hiruma straightened, Mamori felt the strangest urge to whistle in appreciation. Then, she promptly slapped herself mentally. Such thoughts about the Commander from Hell were surely going to get her in trouble.

"Now my pants, fucking manager."

Mamori froze in the middle of her mental discussions and rounded on the grinning man. "W-WHAT? NO! Do it yourself, Hiruma!"

"Don't be such a damn prude. The longer you take the longer we have to be here."

Mamori was positive. _Positive _that she was going to kill him. She just hoped that her blushing face didn't catch on fire first.

She stepped forward again, and tugged angrily at the laces on his pants. Hiruma grunted in discomfort as her rough movements jolted his arm. "Careful on the goods, love."

He smirked as Mamori's cheeks reddened yet again. "Fucking manager, you blush quite a bit, it seems."

Mamori grit her teeth. "Shut up, Hiruma. It's not everyday I _undress_ _you_…"

Mamori's fingers stilled and she gasped in horror. She had gotten too worked up by him and the suggestive words had come spilling out thoughtlessly. She knew _exactly_ how he'd take them.

_I have to get out of here._

"There, I'm sure you can manage the rest by yourself. I'm leaving." Mamori all but sprinted for the clubhouse door. _Stupid, stupid girl. _She cursed herself in her mind.

But her flight was stopped as a lean arm snapped forward and wrapped around her waist, dragging her back against a firm, bare chest.

"My, my, fucking manager. I thought that charming blush was just because you are an innocent disciplinary comittee member. I'm flattered that it's because you're with _me_."

His words were whispered in her ear, the husky voice and warm breath making her heart pound even harder. God, he smelled good, like mint, coffee, and masculinity.

"N-no…" She protested weakly.

"Really? Because I'm usually always right." He was leering at her, she could tell.

"I-I…" Mamori was having a hard time concentrating when the hand holding her against him started stroking lazy circles on her hip.

"Do you possibly _like_ me, fucking manager?" The words were hissed against her hair, and Mamori's scalp tingled.

She wrenched away from Hiruma and faced him angrily. She would not lose to whatever strange feelings she was experiencing right now. "Don't assume you know everything about everyone, Hiruma." She all but snarled, eyes glaring.

"So you're saying I'm wrong?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Then let's see for sure, fucking manager."

Mamori was confused by the sudden seriousness that stole over the quarterback's eyes.

But then he was kissing her and _ohgod_ his lips were so hot and his good hand rubbing her side was making her dizzy, and _ahh… _his teeth were just as sharp as they looked, nibbling her lower lip and then her neck, hard enough to bruise. And her hands knew what she wanted better than she did because soon they were burying themselves in his spiky blond hair and exploring the muscles on his back, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

---

When they finally surfaced from their intense making-out, Hiruma grinned slowly, lazily.

"Hey, fucking girlfriend."

Mamori purred in pleasure at the new nickname and opened her eyes slowly. "Hmmm?"

"You never finished taking off my pants."


End file.
